The Song remained—soft, steady, alive.
It didn't need to be heard anymore. It was felt everywhere— in the warmth of sunlight, in the cool breath of night, in the spaces between one heartbeat and the next. Everything that lived carried a small piece of it, and that was enough.
Stars continued to shine. Worlds continued to turn. People continued to love, to try, to dream. And that, more than anything, kept the Song alive.
The Dreamer's presence was no longer something distant or divine. It was in every living thing—the way someone smiled at another, the way rain kissed the earth, the way a single leaf turned toward the light.
Fate no longer wandered. It rested, peaceful at last, knowing everything was exactly as it should be.
Time moved, but no one feared it. Every moment mattered, because it was part of the whole. Every ending was just another beginning waiting quietly beyond sight.
